


Love Is In The Air

by LilyOrchard, MikailaT



Series: Anevay Darkflare - Horde Champion [16]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Love Confessions, Pining, Relationship Advice, Undead Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29358801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyOrchard/pseuds/LilyOrchard, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikailaT/pseuds/MikailaT
Summary: As the Shamans and the Apothecaries begin to work together to deal with Orgrimmar's wounded, one orc woman starts to think there might be something more between her and her new friend. But she's not sure how to proceed, or even what she's in for.
Relationships: Female Forsaken/Female Orc
Series: Anevay Darkflare - Horde Champion [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939501
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	Love Is In The Air

Orgrimmar during that post-war peacetime was a strange place to be. All the soldiers recalled from active duty, Peons rushing around with their increased workload handling all the maintenance that had to be put on hold during the war, and the long-term injuries from the Burning Legion that needed to be healed were practically backing up the Shaman tents. Thankfully the High Overlord had mandated the apothecaries provide their aid to the overworked Shaman, and so regular supplies of healing and rejuvenation potions were making their way to the crowded city every morning.

Gnala Thunderheart was practically up to her ears in patients, and the aid from the Forsaken was desperately needed. Overnight the hesitation of many to accept alchemical and surgical medicine dwindled to a few traditionalist holdouts and Gnala had come to  _ love  _ rejuv potions.

“I swear, I’ve seen you in here three different times for burns, Cinderveil,” Gnala huffed as she ran water-coated hands over the half-elf’s back. Her patient smiled, partially due to the blessed water soothed her injuries, and partially with self satisfaction. 

“It’s hardly my fault that some lousy fire mages are so hot headed,” Cinderveil snickered. “If they can’t handle my scathing commentary, they shouldn’t make fun of my outfits. Besides, I always win despite them swinging first. So I have the moral victory as well as the actual victory.”

“Well if the Warchief or the High Overlord catch wind of a foot soldier starting fights, they’re not going to be very happy little one,” Gnala warned her.

“But that’s what patient confidentiality is for, right?” Cinverveil asked, giving her healer a wide grin.

“Kid, let me make something perfectly clear,” Gnala chuckled. “If the Warchief comes asking about you, I’m unlikely to lie for you. If the High Overlord comes asking, I’m  _ definitely  _ not lying for you. Never get on the bad side of someone who could throw you over the wall.”

Cinderveil opened her mouth, then closed it. “...A fair point,” she conceded. “I will try to be more careful then.” 

“Good. Now hold still, kid,” Gnala chuckled as she finished cleansing the burns. “Alright, just waiting on the rejuv potions and you’re all set to go.”

“Hey-hey!” came the raspy voice that soon found its way through the flaps of the tent. Both women looked up to see Apothecary Lucy standing before them with a large rucksack. “Did someone say ‘rejuv potions’?” she asked, reaching into the pouch and pulling out a vial with luminescent purple liquid.

Cinderveil blinked, her gaze alternating between Gnala and Lucy. “Uh… yeah actually. That’s… that’s kinda freaky.” 

“Ah, don’t soil yourself, kid,” Lucy snickered with a wave of her hand. “I was just outside the tent for a little bit and was waiting for Gnala to give me an opening.” 

Gnala chuckled and gave Lucy a warm smile as she accepted the rucksack. “Thanks Lucy,” she said as she took out one of the vials and handed it to Cinderveil. “Here kid. Drink that, lay down for ten minutes and then you’re good to go.”

Cinderveil smiled and graciously accepted the vial. “Thanks Doc,” she said before uncorking the vial and downing it’s contents as though it were a shot of whiskey. 

Lucy chuckled at that as she rounded the rug that the half elf was sitting upon to stand beside Gnala. “You must be fun at parties,” she mused teasingly. 

“How do you think I got these burns?” Cinderveil said cheekily before she moved to stand up. “I’ll go find that cot then. Thanks again!” 

“Cute kid. Where’d she come from?” Lucy asked, leaning against one of the tables.

“New recruit from Quel’thalas,” Gnala explained. “Taldrea Cinderveil. The Warchief put her on an upcoming mission to find a missing expeditionary crew. Interesting kid. Very… eccentric.”

“I see that,” Lucy smirked. “The only elf I’ve seen exhibit such recklessness is Princess Anevay. And even then it was never so… plucky.” 

“Well we never knew the Princess when she was just a greenling,” Gnala chuckled. “So what’s on your agenda for the rest of the day?”

“Ah, just making sure that everyone receives their shipment of potions on time and intact,” Lucy said with a shrug. “How about you? Your workload getting any better?” ‘Better’ in this case meaning ‘less daunting.’

“Well there’s a finite amount of wounded and I’m getting through them as best as I can,” Gnala nodded. “But there’s a shortage of Shamans and too many wounded to handle them all.”

“Well don’t you worry,” Lucy smiled, clapping Gnala on the shoulder. “That’s what me and my crew are here for. And I always got more time and potions for my favorite healer.” 

Gnala turned a toothy smile toward her. “Your favorite healer, eh?”

Lucy chuckled. “Yes, my favorite,” she repeated, her hand kneading at the tense muscles she felt in Gnala’s shoulder. “But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna knock off another ten percent on these potions. I still got an Apothecarium to fund.” 

Gnala felt a fluttering sensation in her chest under Lucy’s touch. It was… strange. By rights she shouldn’t be comfortable with the Forsaken woman touching her. Her hand was cold, withered and rotting. But instead of recoiling she wanted to lean in closer.  “...Yeah, of course,” she said after a moment of confused silence. “Just bill the Farseer. Same as usual.”

“Sounds good,” Lucy nodded. 

“Grand Apothecary?” asked the withered voice of one hooded and masked Forsaken who poked his head in the tent. “There’s a situation in the Drag. Apparently some Warlocks are trying to upsell their potions to our delivery stops in place of ours.”

Lucy sighed wearily as she hoisted herself up from the table. “Alright then, I’ll be right out.” 

“See you around,” Gnala said quietly.

“You too,” Lucy turned her head back and smiled as she left.

Gnala felt her chest flutter a second time. Something about Lucy’s smile just… relaxed her. It eased her stress. It almost felt like she was- No, no that was crazy. Lucy was undead. The Forsaken were friends of the Horde, certainly, but potential lovers? That went against nature.

Still, undeath or not, Lucy was still a person. A brilliant, eloquent and hard working person who always managed to bring a smile to Gnala’s face without even trying. Nothing about their conversations felt unnatural to her. Even the lifeless mottled flesh stopped bothering her after a time. Seeing the Grand Apothecary on the regular had become a greatly anticipated part of her days. She enjoyed Lucy’s company and often lamented her absence. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

Gnala sat down, feeling more confused than ever. The notion of having more than friendly feelings toward a dead woman… it went against every instinct she’d ever had. She wasn’t even certain how to even begin to unpack this. What the hell would she even do with these feelings? Could she explore them in any capacity?  ...Would Lucy even feel the same way?  She muffled a groan of frustration against her palm. Trying to think this through was only frustrating her. She couldn’t unpack this on her own. And there was nobody who she could ask for advice who wouldn’t immediately recoil in dis-

Then she sat up, and almost slapped herself for not realizing it sooner. The High Overlord was  _ married _ to an undead woman! She could help her. Tell her how to sort through all this, and what to expect. Sure there was the slight hurdle of awkwardness regarding asking the High Overlord for what could possibly amount to relationship advice, but she must have had stranger conversations than that. 

Gnala took a deep breath and stood back up, a look of certainty on her face. She could do this. She could get a handle on these feelings. 

“AH! My leg!” 

...Right after she met the last of these patients.

* * *

Gnala took a deep breath as she stood outside the house that the High Overlord was staying in while she was spearheading the repair efforts in Orgrimmar. The notion of speaking to someone so high up the chain of command about something so… personal… was daunting to say the least.  She lifted her hand and knocked three times on the door, feeling her heart pounding in her throat.

The door opened and Anevay immediately looked concerned. “Gnala? What’s wrong? Is someone dead?”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that, High Overlord,” Gnala said, already feeling her certainty wavering. Already, she had Anevay worried about something. “I… have discovered something I need… guidance on. I thought you would be the best person to ask.” 

Anevay’s concerned look turned to one of confusion. “Uh… okay? Come on in,” she said, standing aside and inviting Gnala into her house.

“Thank you,” Gnala nodded as she stepped inside. Looking around, she saw a home that was roughly half of what she expected from a High Overlord. Walls decorated with trophies of war, weapons and armor used in battles past hung up on display and hefty animal pelts used as rugs here and there. What she was not expecting was the furniture to look so soft and plush, silk drapes covering every window and the smell of something absolutely delicious coming from what she could only assume was the kitchen. It felt very much like a home here. 

“Your house is beautiful, High Overlord,” she said as she continued to look around.

“Thank you,” Anevay smiled, gesturing to the couch. “My wife likes it. So what is it you need guidance with?”

Gnala accepted the seat, her eyes aimed down at her lap as she thought best how to answer the question. “I am… uncertain of how best to say this. I have only just begun to come to grips with what I have discovered, I am sorry to say.” 

“Well what is it?” Anevay asked.

“...Your wife. She’s undead,” Gnala said, choosing to get the less emotional things out of the way first as she composed herself. “What’s that… like?”

Anevay’s brow furrowed. “You mean what’s my marriage like, or marriage to an undead woman specifically?”

“Marriage to an undead woman,” Gnala nodded in confirmation. “How different is it to a relationship with a living being?” 

“Oh. Well… not all that different, honestly,” Anevay shrugged. “I’d say the biggest difference is the trauma associated with being raised by the Scourge. It’s a very severe and intense variation of Shell Shock. Sylvanas has a lot of triggers, and navigating them takes a great amount of care. And in terms of traumatic experiences in the Scourge, she got the worst of it.”

Gnala’s eyes widened slightly. In truth, she hadn’t given that notion much thought. The psychological aspect to courting a woman who had already died once before seemed like something she most certainly should have considered before. She began to feel a sliver of guilt pang in her chest.

“...And that, for you, is the most difficult obstacle to circumvent?” she asked.

“Yeah. I mean everything else that might stand out is pretty tame,” Anevay shrugged.

“What about the… rotting?” Gnala asked.

“Well Sylvanas is actually very well preserved. There’s a lot of very strong magic holding her together, so she rots very slowly,” Anevay explained. “The only time it comes up is every few weeks I scrub the rot from her hands and coat them in a salve to keep them strong and protected.”

Gnala’s lips pursed slightly. “Would it be more of a problem for you if she weren’t so well preserved?” she asked.

“Uh… honestly I don’t think so,” Anevay shrugged. “The Forsaken require maintenance, that’s just a fact of unlife. The living do as well. Theirs is just… different. It’s cleaning rot and necrotic tissue instead of moisturizing or something. And I’m not all that bothered about tending to my wife like that.”

Amber eyes widened slightly. In truth, Gnala hadn’t quite considered that notion. All living things needed to perform regular rituals to maintaining themselves. Eating, sleeping, cleaning. All done to ensure that they remained alive and healthy. The undead obviously had rituals of their own, albeit different ones. “...I see.” 

“Yeah. A lot of people are grossed out by the idea of rot, but it’s just something that needs to be cleaned,” Anevay shrugged. “I sweat, and honestly that’s more gross than rot will ever be.”

Gnala couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “...Yes, you needn’t convince me of how rancid sweat can be. I’ve heard many o’ musky grunts in my day.” 

“It’s even worse when you’ve got fel in your blood,” Anevay shook her head. “The reason I bathe twice a day is because the last thing I need is to be smelling like sulfur.”

Gnala laughed properly at that. “Poor thing,” she lamented playfully. “I am certain the Warchief appreciates it, of course.” 

“I wouldn’t know. She’s never mentioned it,” Anevay shrugged. “But yeah, we’re all gross in some way. Otherwise we wouldn’t want privacy in the bathroom.”

“So… you do not think such a relationship would go against the laws of nature?” Gnala asked, an almost hopeful look in her eyes.

Anevay scoffed. “Of course not. And even if it did, that’s certainly not going to stop me. I’ve loved Sylvanas for decades, and I’ll be damned if I let something as weak as nature keep her from me.”

“...High Overlord that… is honestly rather inspiring,” Gnala admitted, a small smile returning to her face. “I will be honest, I hadn’t considered much of what you so handily explained to me before today.” 

“People rarely ever do,” Anevay shrugged. “They get so stuck on death and get so viscerally upset by it that they never really consider these things. I didn’t really consider them at first either, you’re talking to someone who has the benefit of an almost two year relationship with an undead woman.”

“And you have no regrets about starting that relationship?” Gnala asked, feeling as though she already knew the answer. Still, hearing it from Anevay’s lips would most certainly be reassuring. 

“None whatsoever,” Anevay shook her head. “My only regret was not going for it sooner. Me and Sylvanas confessed our feelings for one another the day I was leaving for Draenor.”

Gnala’s eyes widened. “Oh. ...Okay, I can see why you might regret that,” she said almost sheepishly. 

There was a small exchange of laughter and then silence afterwards. Gnala’s gaze returned to her lap as she pondered her next words. “...I suppose there’s only one question I have left to ask,” she said as she lifted her gaze back to Anevay’s. “How do I… approach a Forsaken woman? Romantically, I mean.” 

Anevay’s eyes widened slightly. “I figured that was why you were asking,” she smiled. “Who?”

“Lucy.”

“Oh really? That’s great! Lucy’s so nice,” Anevay grinned. “Well, in my experience, a lot of Forsaken prefer a direct approach. They want to know exactly what’s going on so they can make a decision without unknown variables. So if you just approach Lucy and tell her you have feelings for her, then she can take things from there.”

“Right. Direct approach. Easy enough,” Gnala nodded, despite a somewhat nervous expression growing on her face. 

“It’ll be alright,” Anevay smiled, laying a hand on Gnala’s shoulder. “Look, the worst she can do is say no.”

A wry huff of laughter escaped the Mag’har’s lips. “True enough,” she said. “Although it has to be a special kind of sad when a dead woman rejects you, huh?”

“Don’t do that,” Anevay frowned. “Don’t frame the Forsaken as desperate. They don’t deserve that.”

Gnala winced slightly, a fresh shiv of shame panging in her chest. “...Right. Sorry. That was insensitive.” 

“The Forsaken are still people. Treat them with the same respect you would treat the living, and you’ll have a friend for eternity,” Anevay said, standing up and popping her spine.

“Of course,” Gnala said, rising to her feet as well. “Thank you for your guidance, High Overlord. I’ll admit I wasn’t the slightest bit prepared to act on these feelings before today. Now, however, I’m feeling more confident.” 

“That’s wonderful,” Anevay smiled. “I hope it goes well. Lucy’s so friendly to everyone, she deserves this.”

“I will aspire to be good to her, High Overlord. You have my word.” Gnala wore a look of certainty and conviction. In the wake of Anevay’s wisdom, many of her questions and anxieties had been laid to rest. She felt a little foolish for not seeing the plainly obvious truths Anevay laid out before her for herself, but at least she learned them before risking the chance of ruining things with Lucy. “Do you by chance know how long she will be remaining in Orgrimmar? I… hoped to take her out at least once before she returned to Lordaeron.”

“Well she was scheduled to return this afternoon, but I think there might be a scheduling error with the ferry,” Anevay smirked.

“A scheduling error? What kind of-?” Gnala blinked, suddenly realizing what it was that Anevay was implying. A small, appreciative smile began to grow on her tusked lips. “Oh. Oh, I see.” 

“Now get going,” Anevay nodded, gesturing for the door. “I want there to be a really sweet, romantic story the next time I talk to Lucy.”

“I will do my damndest, High Overlord,” Gnala assured her, resisting the urge to sprint or, spirits daring,  _ prance _ towards the door. “Thank you again. Aka’Magosh!” 

* * *

“Another delivery,” Lucy announced as she entered the hut with another rucksack of potions. “The Princess rescheduled my ship home at the last minute, can you believe that?”

_ ‘Thank you, High Overlord,’ _ Gnala thought to herself before accepting the rucksack from the apothecary. “Really? Last minute changes don’t seem like her.”

“No they don’t,” Lucy shrugged, leaning back against the table. “Must have been some emergency. Maybe the ship was needed. I’ll ask her when I’m back home.”

“Well, in any case, I appreciate the extra potions,” Gnala said with a smile, her eyes falling to one of Lucy’s hands. She was met with a sudden urge to reach out for it. An urge she just barely reigned in.

“Don’t mention it,” Lucy chuckled. “You know, I need to talk to the Princess about getting a proper transport network set up so we don’t have to lug these things all over the city.”

“I could certainly suggest something to the Warchief as well,” Gnala offered. “I am certain she’d oblige so long as we pitch it as a medical expense.”

“I think all our cities are due for an upgrade, but Orgrimmar especially,” Lucy shrugged. “All the changing Warchiefs has just made everything cluttered and inefficient.”

Gnala chuckled at that, her eyes suddenly drifting to Lucy’s lips. Well, lip, to be precise. With a jaw made of actual steel, she only had the one. Still, it looked quite lovely. “We can certainly do with less clutter.”

“Mhm,” Lucy nodded, pushing off the table. “Well, I gotta rope some elves to deliver the other twelve packs.”

Gnala’s eyes widened slightly, realizing that the moment was swiftly coming to an end. Simply getting caught up in conversation made her lose sight of her true goal. Only for a moment, but a moment was all she had. She had very nearly expended the time Anevay allotted her. She couldn’t afford to waste it.

“Lucy wait!” Gnala exclaimed, catching the apothecary before she turned around. “There’s… something I need to ask you.” 

Lucy stopped and arched a brow. “...Yeah?” she asked. “Well I’m here for the next three days, so if you need a favor…”

“It’s not... quite a favor. I…” Flustered warmth suddenly blossomed in the orc’s cheeks as Gnala scrambled for what to say. It was then she remembered Anevay’s words. 

_ “So if you just approach Lucy and tell her you have feelings for her, then she can take things from there.” _

Right. Direct approach. Dive into the cold water. No time to overthink it, now or never. 

“...I’ve realized that… in your company I have become quite fond of you,” she began. “And I was hoping you would let me take you out. On a date.” 

Lucy’s eyes widened. “Wha- me? You want to take  _ me  _ out?”

Gnala nodded.

“...Okay you do know I’m a cold, dead thing, right?” Lucy said, narrowing her eyes slightly.

“I understand you’re undead,” Gnala nodded. “...I also understand that you’re one of the smartest, funniest and kindest people I know. I’m interested in  _ who _ you are, Lucy. Not what.”

Lucy frowned at that. “Every now and then, someone says that about a Forsaken. But eventually the realities of  _ what  _ we are prove too much for them.”

Gnala faltered slightly at that, but only slightly. “...I am sorry to hear that,” she said before meeting Lucy’s eyes. “I can see why you would suspect such a thing, but all I ask is to be given a chance to prove that it’s not too much for me.”

Lucy sighed and leaned back to sit on the table. She needed to be off her feet right now. “...It’s a big risk. I don’t want to be hurt again. None of us want to be hurt again. How can I be sure that won’t happen?”

Gnala’s tusked lip pursed into a thin line as she gave the question some thought. Lucy needed a sign. A show of good will to prove that this date, and what might come afterwards, wouldn’t be a total waste. There had to be something she could do to calm her anxieties, but what was it.  Her eyes fell down to Lucy’s hand as it rested against the table. The urge to take it in her own returned and, this time, she didn’t stop it. She gently placed her hand atop Lucy’s, finding that touching the dead skin was not as unpleasant as she once might have feared. It was cold, but in an inert way. And the skin appeared healthy enough to show that Lucy did take care of herself. She was an expert on undead physiology after all. 

“If you’d rather not take the risk, you have my understanding,” Gnala nodded, meeting Lucy’s eyes again. “I am confident that my feelings for you are true, but that doesn’t mean I want you to say yes if you’re not comfortable. Regardless of what you say, I will nonetheless cherish our friendship.” 

Lucy glanced down at her hand, held gently, almost delicately, in the orc’s. Gnala had touched her. Had felt her cold, dead flesh and hadn’t recoiled. She’d always known it was technically possible. She worked directly under the Dark Lady after all. But she’d always dismissed the Dark Lady’s relationship with her champion as a fluke. A product of Darkflare’s intense, pre-existing feelings and the living disregarding her so much she fled to Lordearon.

Now it was happening right before her very eyes, without any convenient excuse to not have to accept it.  “...Gnala, that… thank you,” she said quietly, squeezing her hand. “That means a lot.”

Gnala smiled, squeezing Lucy’s hand in kind. “Of course,” she said softly. “You’ve been a good friend to me these past few months, Lucy. You’ve earned my respect and fondness a hundred times over by now. You’re not going to lose it just by saying no.” 

Lucy smiled and squeezed her hand tighter. “...Then my answer is yes,” she whispered. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Gnala’s eyes widened a moment before her entire face lit up. “...R-Really?” she said with a wide grin. “You wish to?” 

Lucy nodded. “Yeah. Yeah I do,” she said. “I… I’ve seen the Dark Lady with the Princess. She’s the happiest she’s ever been. I want that too.”

Gnala, in an uncharacteristic display of impulsiveness, suddenly pulled Lucy into a tight hug. “Oh, thank you!” she exclaimed, holding the Apothecary close. “I promise you that you will not regret this!” 

Lucy gasped. Gnala was hugging her? Really hugging her? She almost didn’t believe it. She didn’t feel the same burst of renewed sensation that she felt whenever she had to stitch up the Princess, but she could still feel herself being squeezed by those… powerful arms.  She relaxed and leaned into the hug, returning it with enthusiasm. “Wow… I’ll hold you to that.”

Gnala chuckled into Lucy’s hair, giving her body another affectionate squeeze before she began to pull away. Though she withdrew from the hug, her hands were still planted firmly on Lucy’s shoulder. The emotional exhilaration lingered in the air for a moment longer, especially now that Gnala could see the smile on Lucy’s face, before a slight undercurrent of awkwardness accompanied it. “So… how does dinner sound?” she asked.

“That sounds… good,” Lucy smiled. “I’ll need to pick up some seasoning, but I’m certain I can manage it. How’s tonight?”

“Tonight sounds wonderful,” Gnala beamed. “I should be done fairly early tonight. Provided Cinderveil hasn’t pissed off another fire mage lately.”

“If she has, she can wait,” Lucy smiled, pulling away from her. “I have to get the rest of the orders filled. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Gnala’s grin remained plastered on her face as she gave Lucy an almost dainty wave of her hand. “I’ll see you then.” 

Lucy stepped outside and into the bright sun of Durotar. Suddenly, it didn’t feel so unbearable. She even felt… lighter. She giggled to herself as she made for Grommash Hold.

“See you then.”


End file.
